The Only Dance There Is


I see a Sufi dancer,

swirling in the shadows

of my busy mind.


I feel a Sufi dancer,

flowing and flooding my senses,

turning each one blind;


to all the seeds

of separation, that I create

in search of the divine.


I turn around three times–

Backing away, to embrace another;

distance grows in thought.


I turn around six times–

and see the cosmic flurry of vision

a panic of blurry separation


bleeding into one.

I turn around nine times–

I forget myself, I say,


“is it my legs

or the flight of my robe

that raises me


like the full moon

eclipsed by the solar stillness

of my heart.


I turn around 12 times

and the world becomes my cradle.

I fall dizzy from seeking,


my desire is shrinking.

I lay on your ground in surrender,

never a moment so tender


As this one.

I am now calm and floored

with a mind


still spinning open

like a child’s spiraling top, twisted

against the smooth grains


of this wooden plane,

shining in an oaken reflection

of the one I found.


Is it you, is it me?

Spinning, in this divine resolve–

I begin to dissolve.


~ jeffrey vionito

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